


I Was Alone When I Burnt My Home

by marauders_groupie



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Clarke comes home, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 01:18:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5689072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauders_groupie/pseuds/marauders_groupie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've been fighting for so long that they have forgotten what peace feels like. But they'll fight for learning to live<br/>without wars and bloodshed, too, because it's the only thing they know how to do.</p><p>Or: Clarke comes back home and they have to learn how to live in peace. They do it together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Was Alone When I Burnt My Home

**Author's Note:**

> I figured this was my last shot of publishing my take on Clarke coming back home, seeing that season 3 starts soon, which. Good luck to us all. 
> 
> The title is from BANKS - You Should Know Where I'm Coming From. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Clarke leaves and Bellamy does what he does best – he fights. He fights for the spot on the makeshift council, fights for what’s left of the delinquents he feels responsible for. His head is heavy and his arms are sore at the end of the day but it doesn’t stop nightmares from invading his dreams, scenes of the acid shower in Mount Weather, cages rattling, Trigedasleng he doesn’t understand but knows a plea to be killed instead of being left to suffer well enough. He hears Fox’s screams sometimes, remembers her cold, drained body and doesn’t regret killing a single soul in the bunker.

And then he regrets it. Regrets it because he remembers Lovejoy’s kid, the sticker on his backpack and his little hand tugging Bellamy’s sleeve – “Sir, are you in ground unit?” Children crying, children whispering and the glee filling the hallway in front of the pre-school. He regrets pulling that lever, bodies strewn across the floor in the dining room.

But his people are here. They are wounded and their hearts are broken, but they still have their souls. Clarke said that she bears it so they don’t have to and Bellamy understands. He’s willing to bear the weight of their acts so that he could see Monty’s watery smile when Miller drapes his arm across the boy’s shoulder, Raven’s laughter coming from the workshop – he’s willing to bear it so that he can see that his people are getting better.

They’ve all lost too much. Bellamy’s tongue still recognizes the taste of rust and blood, loss – Octavia’s tears streaming down her cheeks as he watches them shut her in the Skybox, Fox’s arms around him when she saw him in Mount Weather, Clarke saying “May we meet again”. He knows loss intimately, and it’s not slow and quiet – it’s violent, a hurricane threatening to swallow you whole. Sometimes he wishes it would.

His nightmares rip him from sleep and he tosses and turns until he finally gives up and throws the covers aside. He’s the first one to wake up in the morning – night, really, stars shining above Camp Jaha and illuminating the cabins they’re working on. A hammer is the first thing he gets a hold of after he wakes up and he doesn’t stop until someone needs him or his stomach growls.

He’s sitting around the fire with Lincoln and Octavia, discussing the possibility of a treaty with Luna’s clan, when Raven comes to find him. It’s been weeks since they’ve returned from Mount Weather and she’s still weak, walks slower than she did before, but there’s a spark in her eye and he’s glad to see that all of the things they’ve been through didn’t manage to extinguish it.

“Abby and Kane want to see you.”

Bellamy nods, apologizes to Lincoln and Octavia and follows Raven inside. Most of them prefer to be outside – Ark still reminds people of captivity and he can’t blame them. If it weren’t for the winter approaching, a fraction of them would probably break apart from Camp Jaha and return to the dropship. There is something very hypocritical about sending a hundred kids to Earth, leaving them to fend on their own, and then expecting them to bow down before you.

“What’s this about?” he asks her when they’re standing in front of what’s left of the ship.

Raven’s mouth curls into a sneer. “You think they told me? Like hell.”

He fought for his spot on the council and even then it was only for intelligence purposes. Otherwise no one would care about someone who was once a janitor on the Ark.

“I’ll come find you when I’m done, alright?”

Raven nods, turning away towards the workshop and making her way inside. Bellamy watches her leave, watches the limp and her muscles straining to make a single step, listens to her muffled curses and wants to send everyone to hell. This is the price of living on Earth before the rest of the Ark decided to come down – fighting battles you weren’t prepared for, counting the dead like you’re counting the rations and gritting your teeth so you wouldn’t scream out in pain.

And now they are expected to bow down and obey.

He has no illusions as to what this is about when he enters a dimly-lit room, now the council chamber. Abby Griffin and Marcus Kane are leaning against the wall, talking in hushed tones and they stop when they see him.

Kane always tries to be polite, surprisingly, while Abby is the one who rules with an iron fist. Bellamy thinks that she might have been different on the Ark, might have been softer and kinder before her daughter left. The two of them don’t get along, Bellamy and Abby, but there is a sense of camaraderie between them – they were both left behind.

When he told her that Clarke left, she wanted to send a search party after her, bring her back. Bellamy was the one who told her not to. Clarke’s departure was betrayal and he wanted to hate her for it but he couldn’t. The only thing he could do was let her go, believing that she would come back when she’s ready.

Abby disagreed, but it didn’t change a thing. They had other things to think about, the flimsy alliance between them and the Grounders – for weeks, they’ve expected an attack that never came.

“You asked for me?”

Kane nods, drawing out a chair for him to sit on. He shakes his head – he’d rather stand than sit with these people.

“The Trikru reached out to us.”

Kane calls them by their name, to Bellamy they’ll always be Grounders. He’s lost too many people to them to respect them.

“What did they want?”

“Ah, well,” Kane sighs, a wistful smile appearing on his mouth. “They want to renegotiate the alliance. They are obviously aware that our technology could help them and we need supplies for winter.”

His voice is colder and calmer than he feels. Another one of those things he’d had to change about himself when he took the spot. “No.”

“Blake-“

“Absolutely not. Not after what they did to us at Mount Weather. Lexa can shove her alliance-“

“It’s not up for discussion,” Abby says. He thinks he can see something of Clarke’s in her eyes, the reluctance they have to leave behind if they are to survive the winter.

“Then why am I here, if you’ve already made that decision without me?”

“Because we want you to go to TonDC with me. Your sister and Lincoln are welcome to come with us as well,” Kane explains.

“You want _me_ to go with you? Didn’t think you’d want a diplomatic scandal because – I assure you, that’s what’s going to happen. I have nothing to talk to Lexa about, not after Mount Weather, not after Clarke left because of what we had to do.”

“We’ve all made sacrifices, Mr. Blake.”

Bellamy whirls around to face Abby and he can’t help the venom in his voice. “But you weren’t the one who pulled that lever. _You_ aren’t the one who has to live with what they’ve done. Clarke and I do.”

There was so much talk about responsibility and sacrifices – that was the Ark way. But only three people standing in the command room in Mt. Weather made the decision to kill three hundred people to get forty eight of theirs out. Two of them pulled the lever that irradiated level five together. One of them left. No one could stop the nightmares from coming, ghosts haunting every second they spent awake.

“Bellamy,” Abby’s voice becomes softer and he knows, just knows what’s coming next. “Clarke would’ve wanted us to take this deal.”

“Do _not_ talk to me about Clarke,” he threatens. It takes him every ounce of willpower to keep his clenched fists from slamming into the table in front of him. “She _left_ and we’ll never know what she would’ve wanted.”

He leaves the room slamming the doors behind him and takes it out on the wall, the cold metal bruising and soothing his knuckles at the same time. There’s blood trickling down his arm when he walks out into the cool air.

_Where the fuck are you, Clarke?_

Clarke is not there anymore, but she still haunts his every step. He hears her name coming from Abby’s mouth whenever he disagrees with a decision she made, hears it whispered among the people in the camp, hears it wherever he goes because she is not there with them but some days, it seems like she’s never even left.

He imagines her whenever the trees by the camp sway, tries to wish her into being, the sound her boots would make crunching the leaves and the curve of her shoulders as she carries the weight with her head raised high. He swears he can see her in every sliver of gold the sunlight leaves on metal surfaces in that second he turns away. She’s always there, in the periphery of his vision when he wakes up shaking in the middle of the night.

Clarke is not there, but he can’t stop feeling her next to him.

 

*

Octavia marches up to him in the evening. He’s sitting by the fire with Miller and Monty, none of them speaking. There was never a moment in which they chose each other to share their misery and happiness, but they still do.

“Why the fuck don’t you want to go to TonDC?”

He snaps his head towards his sister, furious glint in her eye. Octavia was different when they first came here – eager to live, eager to experience whatever she couldn’t on the Ark. She was a prisoner for so long and he knew that her lungs must have ached to breathe fresh air.

Now she’s a warrior, intricate braids in her hair and a sword on her at all times. She might have never felt like she belongs on the Ark, but she belongs on Earth. Through blood and suffering, he sees her clutching to her newfound freedom and blooming, like the flowers that grow in the cracks of the pavement. She made room for herself here, pushed into their ranks, the girl who belonged nowhere and fought to make herself a home.

She’s a warrior and he’s trying desperately to be a leader they deserve.

“You’re seriously fine with that, the alliance? After what they did in Mount Weather?”

“It’s our best bet, Bell, and you know it. How the hell do you think we’ll make it through this winter? It’s getting colder every day and we don’t even have enough _blankets_.”

She’s been with them for weeks but she still looks like a Grounder. Lincoln told him that she had to make a choice; leave Bellamy in Mount Weather and return as Indra’s second, or get him out and forget that she had ever got the opportunity. She made her choice but she didn’t shed the clothes and her sword for a gun.

“What about Luna’s clan Lincoln mentioned? Surely-“

“That would take weeks. Weeks we don’t have.”

Bellamy doesn’t say anything and she sits on the log next to him. Miller and Monty are still listening intently but they don’t meddle – Bellamy already told them what happened and he swears he can see the relief in their eyes because they aren’t the ones who have to make the decision.

“Look, Bell,” she tries, calming her voice. “I know you can’t forgive Lexa. No one expects you to. But we have to think about surviving this winter, about making peace with the Trikru. That’s the only way we can keep living here. You know that, come on.”

He does, he knows that but it still doesn’t mean that he’s willing to negotiate peace with people who left him for dead – left _his people_ for dead.

“Why do they need me?”

Octavia rolls her eyes. “Because the delinquents respect you, dumbass. Why’d you think, because you’re so diplomatic?” 

“Yeah, alright.”

“Does that mean you’re going?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Octavia grins, all teeth and dimples, a spitting image of their mother. She’s a warrior but she’s still his sister that calls him a dumbass. So much has changed since they arrived on Earth but a lot of it stayed exactly the same. It’s almost enough to give him hope.

Almost.

“We leave tomorrow at dawn. Pack your shit and be at the gate.”

He nods and Octavia leaves. Lincoln is waiting for her by their tent and Bellamy remembers what the man told him. She was already strong when he met her. And she was, Bellamy knows that. She cut herself with a knife laced in poison so he would stop torturing the man he’s now becoming unlikely friends with, she fought the war with them, and she dared to live.

She was already brave. Now she’s wise as well.

Raven isn’t happy when he tells her that he’s leaving for TonDC in the morning and she presses a small metal container into his palm before he leaves, a solemn look on her face.

“This is rocket fuel. If something goes wrong, shoot it. It’s not enough to blow the place up, but it should give you enough time to get away.”

He wants to laugh, remembering all the times she saved their asses with her brilliant mind but ultimately, he can’t do anything except wrap his arms around her. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well, just don’t get killed.”

Bellamy promises that he wouldn’t and she shoos him away to work on the radios that have to be ready by the time they leave. There is a protective part of him that wants to ask her if she’s getting enough sleep, the dark circles under her eyes permanently etched into her skin, but he knows she’d tell him to fuck off. She works so she wouldn’t have to sleep, and Bellamy knows that her nightmares must be worse than his.

There isn’t a single soul in the camp that doesn’t have nightmares. After a while, people stopped being alarmed whenever someone screamed. Some of them dream about the ring of fire around the drop ship, others can’t exile the smell of blood in the dorm in Mount Weather, Arkers remember the feeling of trying to breathe and no oxygen entering their lungs – they’ve all been through their horrors. It would take time for the wounds to heal.

And until then, they just have to keep living.

He barely sleeps that night, waking up well before dawn, and he paces back and forth in his tent before Octavia tells him to get up because they’re leaving. His pocket is heavy with the container Raven gave him and he hopes he won’t have to use it – he’s had enough of carnage. Some peace would be welcome, but he doubts that he’s ever going to stop sleeping with one eye open.

When he arrives at the gate, Kane flashes him a shit-eating grin accompanied by words, “I’m glad you could make it.”

He shrugs because what the hell was he even supposed to say and when the guards arrive, they set off towards TonDC. It’s a long walk and he still jerks his head whenever he hears rustling in the trees, despite the fact that they now have a tentative peace with the Grounders. Old habits die hard, he supposes, a rifle slung over his shoulder even if these are peace talks.

Kane may be all about diplomacy and resolving conflicts verbally but Bellamy has been through things the other man hasn’t. Kane will never know what it feels to see your people dying off like flies. Because they _are_ his people; what’s left of the hundred are his people, and they were Clarke’s too once.

Clarke, who is nowhere to be found and he hates himself for even looking. Octavia looks like she wants to tell him something but she hasn’t forgiven Clarke yet – she still blames her for knowing about the projectile. There is too much blame placed on her – Jasper curses her every day and it seems like everyone forgot that Bellamy was there too.

In the end, she’s the one to take the fall and he should be grateful for that – except that he isn’t. She is barely eighteen and no one so young should have had to make such decisions. They are children when they want to contribute to decision-making around Camp Jaha, but they are adults when they have to face the consequences of their actions.

Bellamy wonders sometimes, about where Clarke is. The drop ship is empty whenever he goes there, usually once a week – there is always someone who wants to pay respects to the fallen, and he keeps an eye out for Clarke. He understands her need for solitude and he’d come if she called but –

He can’t forgive her, not yet.

They arrive at TonDC just as the sun sets behind the horizon and they drop off their weapons. The container filled with rocket fuel rattles in his pocket but he doesn’t leave it with his rifle.

The Grounders look at them with respect, this time around. They aren’t bound and gagged, don’t come as enemies. Now, they are allies and there is gratitude in the eyes of people he helped free from Mount Weather. They know his name, they respect him – Echo, the Grounder girl who was in the cage next to his, nods when he catches her eye and he is lost for words.

Lexa welcomes them in her tent and she is the same as he remembers. Ruthless, eyes cold and unflinching, sitting on a throne of discarded swords and bones. Indra is at her right and both of them nod when they arrive.

“Welcome. Thank you for joining us.”

Octavia elbows Bellamy in ribs, eyes narrowed as if to say – thread carefully. He may hate the woman standing in front of him but they need this alliance.

Kane is the first to speak. “It is our immense honor, Commander.”

Bellamy sort of wants to throw up because of the way Kane is sucking up to her, but he swallows, hard, and Lexa averts her gaze towards him.

“Bellamy Blake.”

“Commander.”

“We would not have been able to free our people from Mount Weather if it had not been for you. I thank you.”

She looks honest and he wants to make her beg for forgiveness. Clarke and him wouldn’t have needed to kill everyone in the damned mountain had she respected the alliance.

But she didn’t, and he’s very well aware of Indra’s eyes watching his every movement, so he nods. Lexa seems satisfied and strides on down the line in which all of them stand, exchanges polite words with Lincoln and Octavia and then finally sits back on her throne.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice. I am, of course, aware that we did not part at best terms. But I hope we will able to look past that.”

Bellamy hoped for a lot of things – that he’ll manage to keep them all alive until the Ark comes down, that he won’t have to kill everyone in the mountain, that Clarke would come back. None of that came true.

He doesn’t give a shit about what Lexa hopes for.

Kane does. “Certainly, Commander. Water under the bridge.”

“In that case, I have a gift for you. Indra, please.”

The leader of the village of TonDC bows her head slightly, the sound of her boots stomping on the ground audible even after she’s left. It doesn’t take her long to come back but in the short few minutes, Lexa adopts a look of a well-fed snake – sly and smug.

A gift.

Getting his people out of Mt Weather would have been a good gift.

The flap of the tent rustles and Indra strides in, accompanied by a woman. The sight of her makes Bellamy’s stomach plummet and for a second in which the newcomer settles in, he stands frozen in his tracks.

The woman looks unfamiliar for only a split of second in which she ducks under the flap. The braids she is sporting in her long blonde hair are intricate, almost as Lexa’s, and the tips of her hair had been dyed red.

It is only when she turns to look at Bellamy that he recognizes her. Not even black war paint around her eyes could hide how blue they are.

Kane gasps, Octavia swears under her breath and Lincoln is the one to call her by her name.

“Clarke.”

Bellamy can’t speak, his tongue heavy in his mouth and his mind a mess of flashbacks and words. The girl standing in front of him is Clarke but she’s not – she’s different. He remembers how she was when she told him that she was weak and that he should go to Mount Weather, despite begging him not to when he first offered. He remembers her standing up to him on that first day, standing next to him as they carried in the rifles found in the bunker. He remembers her as a leader, remembers her as a commander.

Clarke standing in front of him is both and none of the two.

Kane is the first one to react, despite Clarke’s eyes searching Bellamy’s face and waiting for him to do something. The man wraps her up in his arms and tells her how glad he is to see her. She flashes him a smile and Bellamy is glad to see that it doesn’t look like a weighed down grimace anymore.

He still can’t move or speak. He wants to hate her, he does – she left them, but he can’t. Not when he mostly just misses her.

“Bellamy,” she says, expectant.

He wants to shout at her, push her away, hold her close, whisper into her ear because he’s missed her – he’s missed her so bad and he couldn’t stop looking for her every time he set foot outside Camp Jaha.

“It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah,” she smiles. “You too.”

Lexa clears her throat behind them, draped over her throne, and Bellamy would be lying if he said that he didn’t notice the way she looks at Clarke. Satisfaction flashes across her face when Clarke turns to her and Bellamy digs his fingernails into his palms as he realizes that Clarke approves of this. Hell, she was probably the one to suggest it in the first place.

“Our alliance still stands, if you would like it to,” Lexa nods at Clarke and there is something about the gesture Bellamy can’t exactly put his finger on. She is talking to Clarke, a leader to a leader, and Bellamy only hopes that it means she is going to return home.

The muscle in Clarke’s jaw ticks but her voice is calm. “Of course. Our technology in exchange for the food and anything else you can provide to help us through the winter.”

“Very well. I suggest that all of you rest now. We can settle the terms of the arrangement in the morning. You are welcome to stay here.”

 “Thank you, Commander,” Kane says, ever the polite dickbag. “We would appreciate that.”

They leave the tent with a promise of meeting up in the morning and Indra leads them to three cabins prepared for their stay. They don’t look bad, Bellamy realizes, and they could definitely use some tips from the Grounders when it comes to building.

“Right, well, Lincoln and I are in this one,” Octavia knocks on the door of the cabin closest to the forest. “It’s, um, good to see you, Clarke.”

Clarke looks surprised but thanks her, says she’s missed her too and Bellamy can’t help but to wonder if she’s telling the truth. She’s still closer to him than to anyone else, only a few inches separating them, and it looks like she’s pointedly avoiding his gaze.

Kane latches on to that, dragging the guards with him to the cabin next to Lincoln and Octavia’s. “We’re in this one. Come on. See you in the morning. Bellamy, Clarke.”

Bellamy turns to her when they’re alone, realizing that they might have to share a cabin and feeling pretty shitty about that. “You got your cabin or-“

“No. But if you don’t want to share, that’s fine, I’ll-“

“No, we can share.”

The cabin is warm, fire crackling in a makeshift fireplace, and food is placed on the table. Bellamy swears he sees grapes – real grapes – and –

“Is that _veal_?”

Clarke chuckles. “Yeah, they’ve – they’ve got plenty of food.”

He wants to ask her so many things but he’s still got some pride left so he turns away from her and sits on the bed made out of furs and blankets, digging into the food. She says nothing for quite a while and then the furs dip as she sits down next to him and does the same.

The braids in her hair are in sync with her movements and he can’t get past the charcoal smudged around her eyes to make her look like a Grounder.

“Come on, Bellamy,” she throws him a sidelong glance, almost smirking. “I know you want to ask me something.”

“Nope,” he pops the p audibly, chewing on his food and keeping his gaze straight in front of him and not where she is.

“Really? Not a single question?”

“You left. What’s there to ask?”

He feels her tense up next to him and just out of the corner of his eye, he sees a look of hurt flash across her face. He expects her to whirl around and hit him, or just yell at him but she does nothing.

When she finally speaks, a loaded moment having passed, her voice is barely louder than a whisper.

“You can hate me, fine. But I would’ve been a shit leader to those kids if I stayed and you know it.”

Maybe. He stayed behind and he turned out fine. She would’ve done even better.

“So what, you holed up in here with _Lexa_? After what she’s done to us?”

“I didn’t-“she huffs, trying to run her fingers through her hair and sighing when the braids stop her from doing so. “I hate these fucking things.”

“Lexa seems to like them alright,” he jabs and figures that he deserved it when she rolls her eyes.

“Lexa can go fuck herself. No, I wasn’t here with her. I wouldn’t even be here if she hadn’t come to Polis asking me to reconsider the alliance.”

Bellamy thinks about the irony of Abby mentioning Clarke and saying that she would’ve wanted this alliance to work, only for her to appear now – supporting it.

“Did you know that she told us she had a gift for us?” he asks her, the sadistic part of him reveling in the way her eyes narrow. “She meant you.”

“I’m not even going to deign that with a reply. Seriously, Bellamy, I _am_ sorry for leaving but I’m not going to beg you for forgiveness. You already gave it to me once, remember? No take-backs. If we are going to do this, keep our people alive, we’re going to do it right. And the alliance is a necessary evil. So suck it up.”

He’s suddenly thrown off by his need to laugh – honestly, Clarke Griffin sitting next to him, a storm brewing in her eyes, getting ready to tell him off again. It takes him right back to the very start, when he thought she was an entitled princess looking to assert her dominance, seeing that she was in the ruling class on the Ark. He wasn’t all wrong, but he wasn’t all right either.

When she stands up and tells him she’ll find a different sleeping arrangement, he stops her by reaching for her hand. She did what she had to do and even though she didn’t say it – if he wants to be a part of her life, he’ll have to forgive her. One way or the other.

The funniest thing is - he wants to forgive her. Hating and blaming her doesn’t feel right, it’s like fighting a battle with yourself, and pulling her back on the furs feels as easy as coming home after a long day.

“I’m sorry, Clarke. Yes, I’m mad and yes, it’s shit without you but if you’re coming back, then – I guess we’ll have to find a way to make this work.”

Her smile is brilliant like the sun and he can’t help but to respond the same way. She’s here – a little different, a little battered like all of them, but her being here is the only thing that matters.

God, he’s missed her.

“So, tell me,” he starts again. “What have you been up to?”

They settle back against the pillows, elbows so close they’re brushing whenever she gestures, and he has to bite his cheek to stop himself from smiling.

“I was walking for three days from the camp when I stumbled onto a few warriors travelling towards Polis. That’s their capital, and I think it was New York once. They have a war council in what’s left of the Empire State building,” she talks, enthusiasm sparking in her eyes and he feels a smile tug on the corners of his mouth, no longer able to help himself. “It’s different from this. It’s closer to what we know, I suppose. You’d love it – they have a huge library.”

He almost winces, realizing that she remembers what he’d told her about when there was too much shit going on and they needed a minute of quiet. Octavia and him were raised on books, any sort his mother could get, and he learned to love them – devoured anything that had anything to do with history of Earth and mythology. It always made him feel like there was more to life than the hallways of the Ark.

And she remembers.

“They were nice to me, you know? They knew about the alliance and when the found out what happened in Mount Weather, they didn’t kick me out. They – they wanted to learn about us,” she says, a bit surprised. “Asked me about our customs, our part of history. They thought they were the last of humanity, too. And this,” she takes a braid in her hand, twisting it around in her palm, “was their way of saying that I was welcome.”

“It’s a good look on you,” he nudges her shoulder, offering a smile.

“I don’t like it. It’s – I’m not a Grounder.” Then she must think of something because she’s up on her feet in a flash and she’s tugging him along. “Come on, help me.”

He doesn’t realize what she’s talking about until he sees her tugging on the braids and trying to untwist them, only leaving a bigger mess behind. Bellamy chuckles and swats her hand away – he’d done Octavia’s hair numerous times, and he’s got this.

She talks about Polis as he unbraids her hair, about their customs, other clan leaders that might be interested in forming an alliance with the Sky People. It sounds nice when she talks about it, but then he’s reminded of what the Grounders did to them when they first came to Earth and he can’t reconcile the people she talks about and the ones he knows of.

But he tries to. He doesn’t know if she deserves it or not, but it doesn’t matter anymore. His principles had to be abandoned in order to survive on this planet and even though he tries desperately to cling on to some of them, others have to be sacrificed.

There’s very little happiness to be found when you’re trying not to die every day and Bellamy isn’t going to give up what little he can get.

So he tugs her into his side when her hair is back to her usual frizzy curls and can’t help a contented smile when she leans on his chest, her hand coming up to rub imaginary patterns into the fabric of his shirt.

“How’s Jasper?”

“Pissed off. Coming to terms with it.”

“How’s Raven?”

Bellamy grins. “Ready for a fight. I have a can of rocket fuel in case things go to shit.”

Clarke’s laughter vibrates against his chest and he can’t help squeezing her just a little bit tighter. They’ve never done this, shared a bed, but it feels calming right now. She’s here, she’s –

She’s really here.

“Of course. It’s Raven. And –“

“And how are _you_ , Clarke?”

Her eyes flicker towards him but she sighs, flopping on her back and staring at the ceiling. They’ve gotten used to sleeping in tents, in the woods – what’s a Grounder cabin compared to all the places they’ve fought to get a few minutes of sleep?

“I’m better. I know I did what I had to do to save our people. It wasn’t right and I’m not the good guy, but are there really any good guys anymore?”

“No,” he says, thinking back to Mount Weather and the ring of fire when they burned Grounders to a crisp and Fox hugging him, only to die a few hours later. “There’s only us, doing what we have to do to survive. The only question is – can we live with that?”

“I don’t want to die. That’s what I know.”

And somehow, that’s enough. That’s what they’ve got right now and it _has_ to be enough.

 

*

They’re back in Lexa’s tent the next morning and the sight of Clarke arguing with her – all calm defiance – brings back fond memories. Sure, his fond memories are of those moments when they fought about little things – like hunting parties and rationing moonshine – not those in which they had to decide between a bad thing and the worse one.

“Absolutely not,” she states, calmly clasping her hands on the table. Lexa is frowning across from her and Bellamy really wants to pat Clarke on the back.

Kane is squirming in his seat, obviously unhappy with the way the negotiations are going but Bellamy is having the time of his life, happy that he and Clarke are on the same side once again. And it isn’t just that – it’s how her resolute voice reminds him of the partnership they once shared, the partnership that still lives on when he says something and Clarke announces that she agrees with him.

“We are not about to hand our guns to you as a means of preserving peace,” she continues, her voice laced with frustration. “And we sure as hell don’t intend to share our knowledge of medicine for barely enough food to keep all of us alive.”

“We have to know that you won’t attack us.”

Clarke scoffs, leaning back in her seat. “Sure, because we’ve always attacked first in the past. Get over yourself, Commander. Our terms are based on equality – both sides getting exactly the same amount of required resources. Take it or leave it.”

Lexa considers it for a moment and finally, nods. “We’ll take it.”

“Good.”

Bellamy sees the way the commander expects Clarke to stay behind but she’s the first to rush out of the tent. He can only guess what had happened between them before Lexa betrayed them and he knows that this is just one of those things that they have to live with. They are, after all, perpetually trapped between a rock and a hard place.

But Clarke is grinning when she mounts a horse, a peace offering, and motions for him to climb behind her. “Did you see Lexa’s face? God, I thought she was going to throw a shitfit.”

“Fuck Lexa.”

“Yeah, fuck Lexa.”

 

*

Everyone is overjoyed to see her and Bellamy can’t keep a huge smile off of his face for the rest of the day. Raven wraps her arms around Clarke, making her promise that she’s never going to do this again, and Jasper just flashes her a quick smile before ducking into his tent which Bellamy guesses is as good as it’s going to get right now.

She walks around Camp Jaha, Bellamy telling her what they’re planning to do now that they can expect help from the Grounders, and she nods, serious, as he talks her through building cabins, forming a school for what little kids there are and improving heating.

“Of course, Raven and Wick are fighting like cats and dogs about that,” he supplies helpfully and beams when she actually laughs. “But it should be done by snowfall.”

“It’s great, what you’ve done here. In just a matter of weeks. That’s,” her eyes widen as she overlooks all the cabins that have already been building, “amazing. You did a great job.”

“You told me to take care of them,” he shrugs. She did, he’s not lying, but Clarke still looks at him as if he is.

Maybe she knows that he would’ve done it either way – the first one except for his sister to believe that he could be better than the three hundred people killed on the Ark because he threw Raven’s radio in the river, better than pushing Murphy off of sure footing and leaving him hanging, better than all the things he’d done to survive because he didn’t know better.

That’s what they did, wasn’t it? They did what they had to do to survive.

So why wasn’t it enough? Why did he wake up with his chest constricting, tears rushing to his eyes because he felt guilty? Why did he hate going to sleep at night when his body was near its collapsing point, in fear of the nightmares?

She offered him forgiveness and he took it. That doesn’t mean he ever _accepted_ it.

“Like you wouldn’t have done it either way,” she smirks at him, those blue eyes always intense, always focused. “Come on, Bellamy, we’ve been through a lot of shit. You can stop pretending. You care about them the same as I do.”

He _does_ care about them. The things he’s done to keep Octavia safe – he’s not proud of them. They aren’t who he is and he repeats that as a mantra every waking minute. It’s not who he is. It’s who he had to become to survive.

But he decided to be good, to take care of his people, to feel like he – for the first time in forever – belongs. No more secrecy, no more avoiding people who wanted to be his friends because he had a secret to keep.

It’s a gritty and dark world made of hammers falling on metal and threadbare shirts but it feels like hope for the first time.

“I guess you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you, Princess?” he teases, draping his arm over her shoulders and ignoring the shiver that runs down his spine when she leans into him.

“Lucky me, huh?”

None of them are lucky but maybe they should try to make their own luck. The world sure as hell isn’t going to give them any.

 

She returns to working at the medical with her mom, those first days leaving her storming into his tent and ripping her clothes off in fury.

“She wants me on the council! On the council, when she practically told me I was a war criminal after TonDC! What the hell does she want me there for?” she rants, pacing back and forth in his tent, throwing his old t-shirt over her head and finally plopping on the bed.

Bellamy just sits on his chair and waits for her to finish. He can understand her frustration – of course he can, but the most he can do is offer to listen to her and advice, if she needs it. Most of the time she doesn’t – she can handle it – but it’s easier not to do it alone.

This is at the root of their partnership – both of them could’ve backed down, given the reins to the other, but they decided to do it together.

Together, always that fucking together he both hates and loves.

Together, sharing the burden and sharing the weight and forgiving even when the other doesn’t deserve it.

“Your mom and Kane just can’t put up with me anymore,” he quips, wincing when she whirls around to face him with a serious look in her eye. She looks almost offended.

“They’re getting you off that council _over my dead body_.”

It’s almost touching how much she cares and Bellamy tries to tell himself that it’s just because she knows he’s a good leader the delinquents respect. But there is something else there, something neither of them dare to speak about.

They sleep in the same bed every night, wake up in the middle of it with clammy foreheads and breaths racing, the only silver lining being that in that distorted world right after a nightmare – they’ve got each other to keep them from feeling desperate.

They sleep in the same bed every night but it’s never gone further than Clarke wrapping her hands around his middle and resting her head on his shoulder or vice versa. Just that – the extent of their partnership, melting into a friendship.

It’s good and warm and leaves Bellamy feeling like someone’s keeping him safe for the first time. It’s a good feeling. Clarke is his good feeling.

“I think you should take it,” he finally says, running his fingers through his hair and chuckling when she scowls, constantly criticizing how messy it gets. “We could do it together.”

Clarke deflates at his words and just sinks onto the pillows. “Together. That sounds good, yeah.”

 

*

 

They've been fighting for so long that they have forgotten what peace feels like.   
  
Everything they do is hard, splinters digging under their fingernails and blood sticking to their skin. What is softness in a world full of grey dust coating their shoulders that carry the weight they didn't think they could bear?

But Clarke bears it so her friends don't have to. Comrades. Allies. Brothers in arms, because all of them had rifles slung over their shoulders and children of the war forget what peace is. 

Bellamy bears it because he wouldn't have been able to forgive himself any other way. He bears it so his sister doesn't have to, so those kids who know battlefield intimately, every shrapnel digging into their skin and staying as a scar for years to come, wouldn't have to. 

They're so young but God, their hearts are so heavy. 

"I'm tired," she tells him one night, wrapped up in the middle of his cot in a makeshift tent. Their lives are makeshift, do what you can with what you've got. 

Maybe life shouldn't be about being trapped between a rock and a hard place but that's what it is. 

"I know."

Her eyes tell him that she understands, her hand had been in his as they pulled the lever in Mt. Weather even if she hated admitting it.

Clarke, always taking on the burden so others wouldn't have to.

"My dad was the same. Always taking care of everyone else first."

Bellamy can only imagine the gentle, fair Jake Griffin Clarke speaks of so highly. He wonders if he looked like her, wonders if she cringes at her reflection in the river because she sees her father. 

But maybe she sees him in what she does. And that might be worse.

Bellamy sees his mother whenever his fingers tighten around his rifle, that fierce instinct of trying to stay alive and keep everyone else that way too. Both of them had done the wrong thing and both of them have spent their lives paying for it.

Some days, Bellamy wishes he was dead. Not in a way that would make him off himself outright, just- 

"It must be peaceful. Death."

Clarke hums, closing her eyes and leaning back on her folded jacket.  "Must be."

They spend nights like this; Bellamy poring over the plans for rebuilding the camp and Clarke offering advice, suggestions. It's half-hearted and he knows she's not happy here. But he doesn't know how to help her because he could offer his love but she looks like she wants to keep her hard shell for a while.

It's Clarke who finally sighs and extends her arm towards him, eyes tired and her soul even worse. The fabric of their souls is threadbare.

"Come here, Bellamy."

And he does, his heart singing as he takes her small, cold hand in his. Their partnership was always about shoulders nearly brushing, telepathy in the way they exchanged looks and settled on issues, growing respect in which she understood him and he understood her. 

Making love to Clarke, it turns out, is like being on the battlefield. He swears it's war cries she lets out, frustrated, when she begs him to move faster, harder. 

"Easy, Princess," he hums into the skin of her neck, feeling how detached she is, how she worries her lower lip and grunts in frustration when he doesn't go faster.

Instead, he goes slower, his grips turn into feather light touches and he'll sooner start crying than let her turn this into another one of their tries for redemption.

They'll never get it, doesn't she know?

"God, Bellamy, I'm not made of glass - I'm not gonna break," she growls, tightening her muscles around him as he brushes away a few stray curls that had fallen into her eyes. 

"So what, it's just a hard and quick fuck for you?"

There's no heat to his words, not really, but she stills all the same and the look in her eyes breaks his heart.

Yes, Clarke Griffin is not made of glass but maybe she should be - for a little while in which she wouldn't have to be the pillar everyone leans on and decides to let it crumble to dust because it's easier to build a new one. 

"That's not - you know you're not just a quick fuck, Bellamy. You know that."

"Yeah, and maybe you should too. It's alright to be fucking hurt, Clarke. We've deserved to lick our wounds in peace."

She stares at him for a while and neither of them move. Their bodies are joined but it doesn't feel like it - not even with her nails digging into his back and her mouth sucking bruises on his neck.

It's all like a fucking war and he really wants some fucking peace for them, at last.

And then she speaks, the most honest he's heard her since the night she returned. "What if I don't even remember peace anymore? What happens then?"

"I don't either. We've been living in this permanent state of crisis for so long. What would our lives be like if we didn't have to fight every single day?" he asks, turning them over so she's on top of him. His movements have come to a halt and it should feel agonizing but - he knows what agony is like. He's not going to die if he waits for a minute.

"But I want to do this right," he continues, running a hand down her back. His heart does a somersault in his chest when she smiles. 

It's not like when they first arrived to Earth, no. But nothing's been the same anyways. 

"Alright," she agrees. "We'll try." 

"We're going to make it, Princess. It'll be alright."

He doesn't know if he even believes in that but he has to try. That's what he's got - a dash of hope. It has to be enough.

 

*

 

They're not made of glass but eventually they break, piece by piece.

They shatter on the floor like those expensive-looking glasses they found in Mt. Weather, screaming and writhing and painful. 

That's healing, he knows. He's acid wounds, cuts, broken bones, knife stabs - he's had it all and he knows you've got to get through the pain to get to a scar that's bound to fade one day.

So he holds her when she breaks over a piece of gauze falling to the floor in medical and he tells her that they're alright when she asks him why the fuck has everything gone to shit.

She holds him when he wakes up from his nightmares, cold sweat pooling in every crevice of his body because he killed everyone in that damned mountain - even the Lovejoy kid, and he couldn't save Roma or Fox or Sterling. He couldn't save the three hundred killed in the culling. The toll rises and he's not going to be alright.

But there's Clarke, sleeping in his bed and waking up at the slightest of his flinches to wrap her arms around him and hold him even when he's trying to rip himself away.

"We'll be alright, Bell. We'll be alright."

She's the only thing tethering him to this world which should have been their rightful legacy but it wasn't. Instead it showed them the worst they could be, showed them that they are nothing like their laboratory-created principles. 

It's given them hell since they first arrived and the only way to fight it is to give it love.

What a fucking joke. 

But Clarke isn't. Clarke who sleeps in his ripped shirt and smiles when he gets her tea in the morning, tiptoeing as to not wake her up. Clarke when she does the same for him, kissing the tip of his nose to wake him up.

She's not a joke and he trusts her. 

"We'll fight for this, Bellamy. And we can do that. We _know_ how to do that."

Piece by piece, with an agonizing wail, they fall apart and shard by shard, they melt back together. 

The cracks are still visible but at least now they're filled in with gold.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> If you liked this fic, please let me know - kudos & comments are a particularly good way to do that. Also, cookies. But let's stick to kudos and comments.
> 
> p.s. i'm on [tumblr](http://marauders-groupie.tumblr.com), too.


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